


Ophelia

by Schattenfeuer



Series: Ophelia [4]
Category: Nightmare Harem (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Genderneutral-Reader, Mild Angst, Other, Reader-Insert, ambigious ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:16:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25882711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schattenfeuer/pseuds/Schattenfeuer
Summary: "For I can not sleep warm, I am stretched on your grave and will rest there forever."
Relationships: Mikael/reader
Series: Ophelia [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1867681
Kudos: 2





	Ophelia

The blessed waters of Nightmare had been flowing freely for a long, agonizingly long time. Never once had anyone seen the lake’s level of water lower again. It remained high and plentiful. Those that did not know of the secret behind it, called it a blessing, forgotten was the short period in which the rivers had run sluggishly and dangerously drying up entirely, they celebrated his reign and did so every year anew. Woe to those however, that knew of the gruesome truth behind the sacred water, the reason why it gushed and flowed so merrily, giving all of them life. 

Even after decades had passed, the town below abandoned Sky Castle still celebrated the day where they had been granted this blessed boon from their deity above. The water was plentiful and not even in winter would the river freeze over, it was as if a spirit had taken possession of Nightmare’s lifeblood to keep it ever flowing, to keep it pure. 

A young girl pulled at her mother’s hand, flower crown resting on her head, she skipped and twirled, like young children tend to do, not knowing where to go with their excessive energy. She hummed the lullaby which sad double meaning passed over her head, all she heard in her mother’s lilting voice was the love of a man that could not sleep in a warm bed, instead chose to float on the cool waves of the sea. 

This young child was not the only one humming, singing, the town population was gathering, not only to celebrate the return of Nightmare’s water source but also to mourn in bittersweet loyalty, for even decades after this had happened, Sky Castle remained empty, leaderless. No one dared to enter, too scared to wake the sleeping hounds of hell that slumbered within its walls. Instead, the villagers threw flower crowns and bouquets of lilies and roses onto the river, hoping that whatever force was sleeping within its waves would hear their gentle prayers. Would rise and return to its origins, to bless the lake in Sky Castle’s ruined gut and release the ghosts of the past from their shackles. 

As if the shower of flowers had not been enough, they began to spin together words, hid the cruel story of lovers star crossed behind soft words and a lulling rhyme, fit to make a child’s eyes grow heavy under the powdery touch of sleep. So long ago and yet so fresh in people’s minds, no one could forget the day their lord disappeared. They searched high and wide, combed through every corner of Sky Castle only to find blood tinted feathers and strands of moon pale hair, drops of red and scraps of torn fabric, the signs of struggle or of an end chosen upon oneself. Too little to give up, too much to hope, caught in between, the populace of Angels grew restless, but what else could they do?

It was a surprise that even the Demons started to pitch in, even if many suspected them of wanting to cover their tracks, their help downturned many times, yet they kept extending their hand in an offer of help, but as time passed and a young Baron became an old king, people finally stopped searching. There was nothing left, so after a hard decision and a heavy heart, the gates to Sky Castle closed forever behind the two remaining inhabitants, never to be opened again. Rust started to eat away at the elegantly twirled iron, weed overtook the meticulously planted garden and dust covered every inch of the once sparkling clean estate, cracks of decay and neglect started to spread like a spider’s net. 

And in midst all this ruin, the sacred lake sparkled and merrily gushed, happily sharing its necessary gift with the land, giving away in plentiful hands, because it would never run out again, not with the beating heart snugly hidden away within it, the very same heart that had loved unconditionally, that had suffered and only in its last moments experienced boundless happiness. It wept, it cried, it laughed and it loved still, despite the reason, the root for it all remaining hidden away. 

Only in the quick silver light of the moon, when it was standing in the exact right spot it had been all those decades ago, could one vaguely, faintly, see the shape of a person, sitting in the pool of glittering silver, waiting patiently for the beloved that would not come back again. A voice kept calling out to empty air, filling the silence with a melody of words whose meaning slurred into each other, resembled the happy giggle of streams rushing over pebbles smooth and round. 

At some times, if one was daring enough, they could even hear a name, repeated over and over again, a searching whisper, a soft sigh, muttered in the same way one would call to their beloved. 

The voice never got an answer.


End file.
